


Safe Harbour

by sunshinestealer



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 18:14:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14478399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinestealer/pseuds/sunshinestealer
Summary: Rook escorts a family out of Hope County and ruminates on how it got that way. Then John Seed gets in contact.





	Safe Harbour

Rook never expected to be in this kind of predicament. To be fair, neither did the poor residents of Hope County. Reaping trucks prowled the roads, with militants eagerly scanning maps and using newly gained local knowledge to find those who lived in especially remote locations. Sometimes, people were spotted by planes and helicopters, escaping into the mountains. Many families had taken the early precaution of sending their children to move out of state with their relatives, before the religious police started to insist upon taking them away to _their_ kind of school to be brainwashed. Those who hadn’t often paid the price, or had to take their children on a long exodus by foot through the regions of the county, in the vain hope that they didn’t run into any Peggie fundamentalists.

Rook had escorted one such family - the Chapmans - through Holland Valley, on foot from the Whitetail Mountains through to Fall’s End before getting in a minivan. Alicia and her partner Tyler had four children, all under the age of ten. Getting all of the kids to walk neatly in single file was a chore, but they were thankfully smart enough to hold hands with each other and hide when told in a stern tone of voice, while Mommy, Daddy and the Police Officer scouted the area. Rook had even come up with a few games to distract them from the boredom of plodding through open countryside, sticking to wooded areas and dashing across the plains, looking towards the roads and associated signposts to make sure they were headed in the right direction.

“You are a lifesaver, Deputy,” Tyler said as the landscape changed from rural town to a long, winding dirt road down towards the southern border.

The Deputy kept an eye on the mirrors and noted a red silo in the distance, to be blown up at a later date. “Just doing my job.”

It was incredible just _how_ cut off they were from everything, here in Hope County. There was no cell service. Farmers had to arrange sales with large telecoms providers for parcels of land where stations could be built and would provide a weak broadband signal for the area. Either that or dial up. Or WAP. Or emergency calls only. Even the radio stations here were either Wheaty’s pirate station (which Rook mainly preferred — even if his taste in rock music was more sludgy and deliberately non-commercial), or the non-stop, musical gospel of Joseph Seed.

The kids had been mercifully quiet throughout, even though they had every right to cry. Katie, the youngest at four, often stared off into space, as if storing her endless questions to ask for later. The middle children were twins, who mainly seemed to communicate with each other. Ellis and Caleb would occasionally be chided by their parents for whispering amongst themselves. Junior, the eldest, seemed to recognise his role as leader in their age group, not even minding that the family had to abruptly leave his ninth birthday party behind when Eli radioed them in a panic, instructing them to hide in the nearby woods until Rook parachuted in and cleared the area of Peggies.

Rook kept breathing at a calm pace, terrified that something would go wrong at any moment. Too often she had thought that she’d sped by a white truck on patrol, only for the horn to honk and bullets firing against the metal chassis of whatever vehicle she was driving. The Deputy’s face was plastered on makeshift WANTED posters throughout the county, after one lucky escape when a more dimwitted Peggie militant accepted the obvious lie that this was just another Reaping van on official business for Joseph.

The anxious aura seemed to have an effect on Alicia, who reached for Rook’s hand as she went to change gear. (Just to make things difficult, the only vehicle they could salvage in time to get out of Fall’s End was a stick shift.)

“It’s okay. You’ve got this.”

“Mmhmm. No pressure,” replied Tyler. He was like most honest residents of Hope County, a salt of the earth family man who was firm but fair, taking seasonal farm labour jobs and keeping the accounts for their family ranch, which had once been a lovely tourist destination within the county. If anything, he was much more resentful of having to sell off the horses several months ago. (He was especially keen to insist to Rook that one horse had even been in the Kentucky Derby. Alicia just gave a sympathetic glance.)

Rook’s back was starting to hurt, given how tightly the muscles were clenched in this high stress mode — together with gripping the steering wheel tightly enough to have chalk white knuckles and sweaty palms.

The more minutes that crept by without seeing a patrol or even any cult flags made Rook almost too suspicious to function. But they were now just one mile away from the border with the next county. Rook silently prayed to whatever deity was listening that the family were kept safe and sound. That Tyler and Alicia could purchase a new home elsewhere in the Big Sky State and the kids could go back to enjoying their summer vacation, not stuck in their bedrooms to avoid Peggie patrollers spotting them outside and launching an attack on the family. Not having to listen to horror stories about people like The Cook, who had become the boogeyman for the younger kids, paralysed with fear at the mere mention of the name.

The sign read 1 MILE, then 0.5 MILES, then pointed directly to the turn-off. Rook’s teeth gritted together, expecting to see a roadblock in the distance. Everyone in the van was on edge, with Junior even having put down his Nintendo console to pay full attention to their surroundings.

But... to a giddy sense of both horror, suspicion and relief, the Deputy noticed there was no roadblock.

Then they remembered something. A radio call from the Resistance while they were down here, hunting for food, had alerted Rook to this very roadblock. How many days ago had that been? How could they have forgotten that they’d cleared this place? Rook blamed a whole lot of fear, sleep deprivation and constant movement on all the memories blending together lately.

“Thank you,” the Deputy whispered. The van passed through the detritus of the roadblock with ease, even though Rook had taken the risk of slowing down in case a spike strip or caltrops of some kind had been left in the road.

The agreement with the family was to get them out of both the Whitetail Mountains and also the Holland Valley. Rook had succeeded in both endeavours, but still felt her spine stiffen with dread. She insisted on driving at least two miles further with the family, before leaving them in the driver’s seat of the minivan and bidding them all adieu.

Both parents were on the verge of tears, but nodded and thanked Rook, somewhat in awe at the Deputy’s insistence on going back to be a key member of the Resistance. Other people were suffering in Hope County under Joseph and his family’s tyranny... not just her fellow police officers, either. They started the van’s engine, with the children vigorously waving goodbye from the backseat as the vehicle sped off into the distance. Away from Hope County and hopefully, somewhere a lot safer.

Rook walked the two miles back into Hope County with some trepidation, sticking to the grassy footpath to the left underside of the highway. It would have been so, so easy to turn in the other direction, hitch hike to a local police station and maybe alert the National Guard in Missoula. It had been too long without sight or sound of any Peggie patrols, and the Deputy’s anxiety was perilously dancing on a knife’s edge.

There had been no radio calls for hours either, although Rook knew their party *had* to have been spotted at some point. There was no way they’d traversed all those miles - even through the forest and high ground - that a Peggie helicopter hadn’t reported three adults making their way through the countryside with several children. Up in the highlands, Rook had seen a vehicle patrol, but the lancer in charge of the mini-gun on the truck bed hadn’t taken notice of the group traversing down the side of a steep, rocky hill that could sprain your ankle just looking at it.

As the roadblock drew nearer and nearer, the Deputy ducked down a little, withdrawing their custom-made rifle. It had a scope and even a camouflaged paint job, its presence a constant comfort. Walking while squatting like this wasn’t terribly comfortable, but Rook had gotten used to it over this... week? Month? Couple of days?

Where the fuck were the army? The police had seen fit to request the assistance of a Federal Marshal, but surely, the moment nobody had reported back, the FBI and other organisations would have swooped in? Rook remembered hearing of other cult sieges. You learned about what to do in these kinds of situations at the Police Academy — how to talk with those who had taken hostages, how to conduct raids on those who you were suspecting of illegal activity, how to quickly and efficiently extract victims from their abuser if there was a serious welfare concern.

The Academy clearly had yet to factor in a module about what to do when the local religious bunch started stockpiling guns, vehicles, airplanes, helicopters, took over the radio station, sought out other officers in the Hope County force who were “nicer” and more suggestible to corrupting justice in the name of the cult... This was terrifying, but it would certainly be a landmark case. There was even a video on the Internet that Rook had seen, taken by some kids from out of town who wanted to be documentary investigators of a sort. Had it not been picked up by the news outlets? Just like Pratt had said back at Joseph’s church, this was going to get their names in the papers. Hopefully. If they all made it out of here alive.

***

The roadblock was mercifully just as empty as it had been just half an hour ago, when the family had crawled past it in the minivan. Rook breathed a sigh of relief, remembering there was a cabin down in the valley somewhere. The sun started to set, so that would be as good a shelter as any. Either that, or a platform high up in a tree.

Rook tried to recall the direction the cabin was in, remembering to scout out the place for Peggie activity first, no matter how damn tired they were. Also, to not be disappointed if the water and electricity were cut off, leaving for a cold, bleak night under a dirty drape or an itchy army blanket.

After about a quarter mile, the Deputy’s radio started to crackle. Rook wasn’t so naïve as to think it would definitely be a member of the Resistance, but attempted to get to slightly higher ground anyway. Even if it was one of the Seed siblings purring their threats of assured destruction into the mouthpiece.

Finally, some clear sounds came through the radio. It was a tune. A male, humming. Rook almost had to laugh — wasn’t it somewhat pathetic to be sat by the radio with no response for so long that you started humming until you got a clear signal?

“Good evening, Deputy.” He said smoothly.

The Deputy never responded, knowing it infuriated John when his victim wouldn’t talk back. His talent at twisting others’ words and getting them to doubt their worldview wouldn’t work if Rook kept up the silent treatment — so they did.

“Cat still got your tongue? I know you’re in Holland Valley. I even know you tried to leave Hope County behind.”

Rook wanted nothing more than to bite back at those words. They were reminded of John’s profession, however, plus the very certain prospect that John could call in the Chosen at any point during their conversation if he felt slighted. They’d already narrowly avoided an arrow through the leg just passing by the Seed Ranch, for mouthing back at the man.

That had led to John’s first inquisition, the forced baptism (or attempted drowning) where Rook got to see the strange dynamic between John and Joseph Seed firsthand. It was weirdly... parental for brothers. John had come back, teeth clenched in irritation, like a child who has no choice but to obey the figure of authority. He’d hissed the sin into Rook’s ear, how they needed to become worthy of atonement.

Of course, Rook had then escaped. This was technically a second escape attempt, right? Leaving Hope County behind...

John clucked his tongue. “Gosh, you wouldn’t *believe* how upset that made the members of your little... guerrilla Resistance. Their saviour, hopping over the border with all the other sinners. Some would call you a fool for daring to come back. I admit, even I am wondering why...”

Rook ignored him. The Resistance weren’t going to be swayed by unconfirmed reports that the Deputy had given up on them. Plus, the different factions communicated with each other — a Whitetail could easily tell a Cougar or somebody in Fall’s End that the Deputy was simply driving the Chapman family to safety.

“I’ll be coming for you, Deputy. Soon.”

The Deputy snorted derisively. Loud enough to be heard on the radio.

“Oh, you doubt me? We’re still tracking that minivan. Tyler Chapman used to drive twenty miles to get to our Sunday services... then the evils of his *heathen* background stopped him. Jacob was going to hunt him and him alone, leave the wife and children to me... but you’ve just led them into the fire, Deputy.” He almost spat the last word.

Finally, Rook couldn’t help it. “Is there a point to any of this shit? Are you getting to it eventually or are you just reading from Joseph’s script?”

There was a stunned silence for a few moments. The Deputy continued walking, with fervour. The cabin would have to wait for another night. They couldn’t go there, they’d remain stationary for too long.

“Deputy?” John tested. “Before you so rudely interrupted me, I was going to tell you that our outreach extends far beyond Hope County. We can see to the Chapmans. Make sure their little homeschooled rugrats are properly educated.”

They thought back to how responsible and curious Junior was, how his brothers seemed so dependent on each other, how Katie had laughed at a silly story about the time Rook had arrived at a the robbery but forgotten the handcuffs.

“Not only that,”John continued. “The wife and children would have had a comfortable existence inside my bunker. You just denied them a chance at survival after the Collapse.”

What bullshit. Rook scoffed again, still musing on whether to toss the receiver away. Well. The Project would probably track it, then come up with a search radius. Plus, it was the only channel of communication with the Resistance, even if it occasionally harboured unwanted threats from the Seed family.

John’s pauses grew a little more drawn out. He was needling, testing the waters here.

The youngest Seed brother had a fearsome reputation in the courtroom. In fact, one of the Deputy’s first jobs had been standing guard as a “squatter” (or rather, an undocumented young farmer) stood trial. John’s eyes and voice had been fearsome then as he prosecuted, shredding the court-appointed lawyer’s arguments with a sharp tongue. It was sickening — this was simply the last piece in the puzzle of getting that large plot of land and the accompanying farm house and buildings, somewhere in the Henbane River region. Rook wouldn’t have been surprised if John hadn’t tipped off ICE himself. After the verdict, the Deputy had taken the man for processing, feeling sympathy for his plight... and a further anger towards the cult.

Until joining law enforcement, Rook hadn’t known just how many claws the Project at Eden’s Gate had in Hope County, Montana. It had only become noticeable over the past ten years... and in the past five years, they had stepped up their recruitment game. Mary-May had once explained to the Hope County officers, as they drank at her bar one night off duty, that the cult were now knocking on doors, but not taking no for an answer. The movement had snowballed as Joseph brought his family up to Montana, she explained.

“Fine, Deputy.” John said, fighting hard to keep the irritation out of his voice. Rook had also heard him taking some deep, calming breaths. “I’ll come for you personally.”

“I’m terrified,” Rook said, deadpan, before they could stop themselves.

“Oh, you should be,” John assured, venomously. “I’ll be on my way.”


End file.
